


Comfort

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is feeling alone, so Jim offers him some comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

## Comfort

by Mona Ramsey

* * *

"Comfort"  
by Mona Ramsey  
monaram@yahoo.com 

Jim closed the folder in front of him with a sigh, happy to see the last of the paperwork for this day. He leaned back in his chair. "Chief, I know I said I'd spring for dinner tonight, but do you mind if we just grab some take-out instead of going somewhere? I'm beat." 

"Not a problem, Jim," Blair said, with a smile. "It's been a long day, and I've got some work I can do at the loft, anyway." 

"Great. Just let me give this to Simon and we'll get out of here." He stood up, the dreaded and finally closed case file in his hand. 

"Sure." Blair grabbed his knapsack and threw a few pieces of paper into it, then drew it shut. Just as he was about to stand, he caught sight of a woman out of the corner of his eye. 

"Jim in there?" she asked, nodding at Simon's office. 

"Yeah," Blair said. "The D.A. need something from him? We were just on our way to go, and - " 

"Not _everything_ is official business, Sandburg," Marla Lennon said with a wink. She was the newest legal whiz-kid in the D.A.'s office, and Blair and Jim had met her on their last case. "I just wanted to ask him something, and I was hoping I'd catch him before he - " She paused, spotting Jim and Simon coming out of the office, and made a beeline for the detective, catching him by the arm and pulling him away. 

Blair couldn't hear what they were saying, but he had a feeling that he knew what it was. He sat down on the desk, waiting. 

Jim glanced over in his direction, shook his head, and then stopped, finally coming over to the desk. 

Blair put a hand up before he could speak. Jim's expression told him enough of what was coming. "Don't worry about it, Jim. Go ahead and have dinner with her. I'll hit the drive-through and go home." 

"Are you sure?" Jim said, a little shamefaced. "It's awfully late notice, and I'm kind of tired - " He stopped when Blair looked pointedly at him, catching him up. "Why don't you come along?" he asked, half-heartedly. 

Blair raised an eyebrow, and then said, sarcastically, " _Sure_ , Jim. She'd love that." He shook his head. "Go. It's fine. Really." 

He thought Jim might protest, but he didn't. He turned away and went back over to Marla, taking her arm and walking her out of the squad room. 

Blair grabbed his knapsack and walked out, in the opposite direction. 

* * *

The textbook he was trying to wade through was dry, but Blair knew that wasn't the reason that he wasn't paying attention. It was after midnight, and the remains of some very dry fried rice sat beside a half-finished plate of congealing foo yung. He took off his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been sitting in the same position on the floor for a couple of hours, and he'd worked a very nice kink into his back. 

"I should go to bed," he said to himself. "There's no reason for me to stay up. I'm not getting anything done." He looked over, for the hundredth time that night, at the closed apartment door. Still no Jim. He sighed and put his glasses back on, flipping back once again to the beginning of the chapter, unscrewing his pen and preparing to make his lecture notes.   
"Concentrate. All I have to do is concentrate. I'm sure Jim isn't thinking about _me_. . ." 

* * *

He wasn't aware of anything more than his own deep breathing, half-asleep, and then he felt it - fingertips wending their way over his scalp, first hard and then soft, digging in and grazing over his hair and skin, rubbing lightly and kneading into the knots into his neck. It felt _so_ good, he was sure he was dreaming. 

He turned his neck a little, encouraging a different touch from his phantom-masseur, moaning loudly as his silent plea was rewarded. "Oh, _yes_ , that feels good, don't stop," he managed, through his teeth. "Don't ever stop." 

"I won't." 

He jumped nearly a foot when he realized that he wasn't dreaming, scrambling to his feet. Jim was sitting behind him on the couch, a grin splitting his face. "Sorry I woke you, Sandburg, but jeez, hasn't anyone ever given you a massage before? You jumped like I'd set you on fire." 

/If you only knew. . ./ "No, I mean, yes, I mean \- what are you doing here, Jim? What time is it?" 

"Not quite two. I came in and saw you slumped over this pile of books, _not_ in the best position for study. Since when do you do schoolwork on a Friday night?" 

"I wanted to get a jump start on next week." Blair could feel the flush begin to leave his cheeks. Jim had startled him so badly that he was still flustered. It had felt _so_ good. . . 

"C'mere." 

He had a panicked moment of wondering whether or not he'd spoken aloud. "What? Why?" 

"So I can finish what I started." Jim stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "The massage? Your neck's in knots. You're not going to be able to sleep at all unless I get them out." 

"Really, Jim - I'm fine. Seriously. I'll be okay. It feels better already." 

" _Blair_." Jim stood up and grabbed his Guide's hand, pulling him over and setting him down on the couch. He himself sat down close behind him. "I won't hurt you, I promise. Just let me do this for you. I've been told that I'm good at giving massages." 

"You are." Blair gulped, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. More than anything he just didn't want to react at all to the return of Jim's hands on him. It felt good - too good. 

He felt Jim reach and take his glasses off, laying them down on the table. Then those hands were back, reaching under his hair and deep up on his scalp, rubbing and massaging and - it almost felt like caressing, but it couldn't have been. He knew that. He took a deep breath. 

He couldn't stop his head from lolling back when Jim attacked the knots in his neck. He'd been hunched over the book for such a long time, and had finally fallen into a doze with his head right on it, that Jim was right - the pain was palpable. It seemed to ache right down his arms, needles of pain shooting into his back. /I've got to remember not to do this again,/ he told himself, even as he moaned at Jim's touch. 

The hands wound their way into his hair again, rubbing with a lighter touch, caressing him. He bit his lip to stop from crying out, but it was impossible to resist. "Yes, Jim," he whispered. 

Suddenly the hair was pushed away from the left side of his neck, and there was another feeling there - a light, warm, slightly wet touch. He leaned back into it, only stopped when he realized what was happening. 

Jim was kissing his neck. 

He jumped up again, this time putting a _lot_ of distance between himself and Jim. 

"Blair?" 

Jim's voice was hesitant, unsure. Blair didn't think he'd ever heard that tone from him before. He didn't turn around. "Yeah, Jim?" 

"Come here?" 

He _had_ to turn around. Jim was looking at him, a plea in his eyes. He walked back over to the couch, sitting down _far_ from where Jim was. Jim smiled at him, and moved a little closer, reaching his hand out and sliding it into Blair's curls again, and pulling him close. 

Blair kept his eyes open until the very last second, or he knew that he'd never have believed what was happening. It wasn't until Jim's lips touched his own that he closed his eyes, opening his mouth for one of the deepest and most tender kisses he'd ever had the pleasure to receive. 

He held on to that kiss with his entire being, held on to it with complete and utter disbelief and the knowledge that he _had_ to be dreaming the only thing keeping him grounded to earth. He licked his lips when Jim pulled away, tasting it over and over and over again. It took Jim tucking hair behind his ear to bring him back to the moment, and he opened his eyes. 

Jim was smiling at him. "I was worried," he said. 

"About what?" /How do I still _have_ a voice? Why am I talking when I could be kissing Jim?/ 

Fingers brushed gently over his face. "I don't want to lose you, Blair." 

His mouth dropped open. "You won't lose me, Jim. It won't happen. Don't worry about that." 

"I am going to lose you, Blair. One of these days, you're going to meet someone and leave, and I don't want that to happen. I like having you here." 

"I like being here." Blair shook his head, bewildered. "Where is this coming from?" 

"I hurt you tonight. I could see it in your eyes, and I didn't figure it out until I came back and found you - _here_. Realized how much I like finding you here, in the apartment, waiting for me. It's selfish, but I've gotten used to having you here to talk to, and - " Jim paused, frustrated. "Just _be_ with." 

Something was sinking down low in Blair, and he wanted the feeling to go away. It reminded him too much of hope. He wanted it all to go away, and just let him get back to where he was before this entire conversation started. He couldn't make it do that, though. It was too late. "Is that why you kissed me? Because you don't want me to leave?" 

Jim nodded. 

Blair closed his eyes, pain of a different kind wending its way through his head. "Jim - don't worry about it. We're friends. There's nothing that will change that." He stood up. "I should go to bed." 

Jim stood up, too, grabbing him around his waist and pulling him back against his body. They were pressed tightly together, and Blair could feel the goosebumps rise on his arms. He wondered if Jim could feel them, too. Blair caught the cry in his throat before it could come out - this time. He didn't have the strength to even push Jim away. "Blair, please - let me - " 

Mustering every ounce of effort that he had, Blair turned around, made himself smile, made his hand come up and press itself against Jim's mouth. Made the words come out of his mouth. "Don't." He shook his head. "Don't." There was nothing else that he could say. 

It felt like an hour before Jim finally let his arms drop. Blair, staring at the floor, walked over to his room, went inside, and pulled the door closed behind him. He stumbled to the bed in front of him, moving on momentum and will and nothing else, feeling completely boneless, suddenly bereft of all of his energy, along with his defenses. He dropped down onto the bed fully clothed, wriggling around until the blankets were around him. He felt so cold all of a sudden. So cold he didn't know if he'd ever feel really warm again. 

It had been fine, just that morning, even as close as a few hours ago. It had all been fine and he had been able to pretend that Jim didn't see it - he'd been able to pretend that it wasn't really there anywhere but in the most secret part of his soul. Now it was out, all around him, surrounding him. He was drowning in his feelings. 

He felt a few lone tears - strangely cold, not hot \- pressing out of his tightly-closed eyes. Heard, inevitably, the bedroom door opening. 

"Blair." 

He didn't say anything. 

He felt the bed dip down on the side, and then it was behind him - the all-powerful warmth, so close, so seductive. All he had to do was just turn into it, and it would protect him. 

He didn't move. 

Jim's arms came around him, again, sliding around his waist. "Blair," was whispered again, by warm lips against his ear. He fought against it, but the warmth was too much for him - he could feel the heat of Jim's chest seeping into his back, creeping right through his body. Warm hands burrowed under his shirt, large hands pressing against the skin of his stomach, sliding upwards, bringing heat to every part of his body that they made contact with. 

And slowly, gently, Jim turned him around, until they were face-to-face. Blair didn't have the strength to protest anymore. Didn't even have the strength to pretend to himself - or to Jim - that he wanted to. 

It was Jim's mouth that kissed his eyes shut, this time, and then teased his mouth open. The hands were moving everywhere over his body, touching him, not doing anything except exploring him, and yet it was so powerfully erotic that he could barely breathe against the tactile assault. 

He uncurled his hands from the fists they were clutched tightly into, and made his arms wrap around Jim so desperately he thought they'd both die at once, and then his entire body shuddered, betraying him yet again. 

He buried his face against Jim's chest, and nothing that the other man did would make him move it. He felt as though his world had stopped spinning, and everything was still. He just needed it to be still, until he had the strength to put it back together again. 

* * *

Blair woke up in the morning in sticky clothes, in his bed, covered with blankets - and Jim, still holding him. He wondered how long it would be before he woke up, and moved - an inch, a foot, a room, a mile, it didn't matter - _away_. Far away. Too far. 

He closed his eyes. Everything was much better in the dark. 

The End  
MonaR. 


End file.
